This Was Love: A String Of Coincidences

Stories Matter. Many Stories Matter.

At About The Age Of Seven … I Wrote Exactly The Kinds Of Stories I Was Reading: All My Characters Were White And Blue-eyed, They Played In The Snow, They Ate Apples, And They Talked A Lot About The Weather: How Lovely It Was That The Sun Had Come Out. This Despite The Fact That I Lived In Nigeria; We Didn’t Have Snow, We Ate Mangoes, And We Never Talked About The Weather, Because There Was No Need To.

And It's Wrong Of You To Think That Love Leaves Room For Nothing Else. It's Possible To Love Something And Still Condescend To It.

I Write From Real Life. I Am An Unrepentant Eavesdropper And A Collector Of Stories. I Record Bits Of Overheard Dialogue.

She Could Not Complain About Not Having Shoes When The Person She Was Talking To Had No Legs.